


Imprint

by Diary



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Gay Character, Canon Queer Character, Conversations, Disturbing Themes, Gen, POV Cyrus Beene, POV Male Character, POV Queer Character, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6499627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at how Tom and Cyrus might have teamed up. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imprint

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Scandal.

“I heard you got yourself into quite the situation.”

Sighing, Cyrus positions his keys and steps closer to the figure in the dark shadows of the car parking lot. “Hello, Tom.”

“Sir,” Tom replies. “Why’d you marry him? He could have easily had a tragic accident.”

“You’ve never cared about my personal life, Tom, and the only reason I haven’t hit my panic button yet is because if you’re here, Rowan is nearby, and if Rowan is nearby, everyone from the president to his two surviving children and even Mellie are at risk. How does this play out?”

There’s silence for a long moment.

“Ella Novak-Beene told you she didn’t like apple juice anymore, but the truth is, there was a bully in her class who liked to spill it on the carpet when the teacher wasn’t looking. You should start packing her apple juice, again. His father and I talked, and he won’t be going back to her school anymore.”

Cyrus tenses. “This is about- I don’t know who let you out of your hole or why, but Ella is the very last piece of James I have. She doesn’t particularly like me, and the feeling’s mutual. But whatever spoiled, rich girl teenage issues I’m going to have to suffer through come the next few years, tell Rowan this, and take heed yourself, Tom: If anything happens to her, I will guarantee everyone involved will suffer a bullet to the head or worse.”

“It’s too bad Jake didn’t die when you made your false claim. He didn’t take the president’s innocent, fifteen-year-old son, but he did take my innocent husband. Somehow, I’ve found myself working with him even with this knowledge sitting in my gut and my heart and my brain.”

“I can’t take Command, as Rowan is so fond of saying, and despite Olivia’s best efforts, there’s a good chance B613 will rise from the ashes. I’m already owned. Ella is going to grow up just like Olivia did, with every advantage and comfort my money and name and position can give her. True racism and sexism and hardship will never fully touch her. Hopefully, she won’t be an imbecilic druggie with more shoes than brain cells, but then, maybe even that would be better than her turning out like Olivia, too smart and idealistic and strong for a world that will never be remade by those possessing such qualities. People like Rowan and I and even you have the traits needed for survival, and only those who can outlive- well, we’ll just erase those efforts at remaking the world into something not suited for us.”

Tom steps into the light, and Cyrus sighs when he sees the bruising on his face.

“What I did to Jerry Grant was necessary. That doesn’t mean I don’t suffer the same aversion many people do to hurting innocent children. It’s a way of showing I can be useful to you, not a threat against you.”

Cyrus laughs. “Oh, this just gets better and better. Seriously, what’s the game here, and how does it play out?”

“Command and Jake are very happy together; neither has any use for me. All other B613 agents are either dead or aligned with them, and the president will never have anything but occasional fleeting use for me. Command says indifference is worse than hate, but I’d take someone indifferent to someone who despises me.”

Rubbing his head, Cyrus says, “And so, you’ve decided- what exactly?”

“Charlie betrayed you. I never have. Ethan has potential, but you often have a soft spot for innocence, don’t you? He’ll never be ruthless enough to carry out the dirty but necessary tasks you need done. I don’t have any innocence for you to feel guilty about corrupting. In all sincerity, you’re one of the best chess masters I’ve ever seen. But right now, you have very few useful pawns to utilise.”

Hearing footsteps coming, Cyrus orders, “Get in the car, and keep your head down.”

…

In the kitchen, Cyrus mutters, “This is insane.” Motioning to a chair, he orders, “Sit down.”

Tom complies.

Digging out a frozen package of broccoli and wrapping a towel around it, he hands it to Tom. “Tylenol or aspirin?”

“I try not to take medicine,” Tom answers.

“Suit yourself.” Seeing how Tom is holding the broccoli against his face, he says, “Here.”

When he helps position Tom’s hands, Tom’s body reacts as if he’s not sure whether to jerk away or lean into the touch.

Finishing getting the broccoli correctly applied, he takes in the sound Tom makes when he breaks contact and comments, “I guess it’s true what they say about touch starvation in high level inmates.”

Tom gives a slight nod. “Not solitary, but my own cell. The guards always wore gloves. There was touching, though. Sprained wrist and ankle, broken leg, bloody eyes and nose. The other inmates had an ability to just know that I’d done something bad to a kid.”

“You’ll forgive my lack of sympathy,” Cyrus answers. Sitting down, he says, “I don’t, but say I believe you aren’t here to keep me in line. Why are you here at all, then? I understand, you’re a foot soldier, desperate for direction, but you’re not an idiot. You’re young, healthy enough, and free. You could get the hell away from Rowan and Olivia and try to make a life elsewhere. There are plenty of people who need yes men.”

“They aren’t anywhere near your level,” Tom says. “You talk about remaking the world. I’ve helped Command keep it the same, because he told me that it was necessary. Suddenly, my purpose in life, my very life itself, depends on it changing.”

“Ask a stupid, cliché question, get a stupid, cliché answer, so, I won’t ask how I can possibly know this is real,” Cyrus declares. “However, since I can’t possibly know if this is real or not, what’s my motivation for making the incredibly dangerous decision to trust you, Tom? Yes, I need someone more than Ethan, and yes, it would be nice if that someone wasn’t an innocent person I manipulated and possibly hurt to get my way, but you killed the son of the man I work for. For all Olivia and I can end up on different sides, I really don’t like it when other people try to hurt her, which you’ve helped her father and even Fitz do.”

“With all due respect, whatever your stance on abortion, Amanda Tanner wanted her baby. It wasn’t a fetus to her, it was a baby. For all the problems it and her might have caused him, we both know, if it was the president’s instead of Billy Chambers's, he would have wanted it and considered it a baby, too. You killed her, and you killed her preborn baby. Possibly _his_.”

Removing the broccoli and leaning back, Tom continues, “Beautiful, powerful Helen of Troy with her god father walking around on Earth and the face that launched numerous drones, planes, tanks, and ships, there are times you weren’t just on different sides and you didn’t just hurt her, you outright sought to destroy her.”

“Give me an order, sir,” he finishes. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

Cyrus’s cell phone chimes. Digging it out, he reads the text. “Michael and Ella are going to be home, soon. Meaning, I don’t have time to deal with this right now.” Taking out his wallet, he says, “I have a suite on permanent hold at the Grand District hotel. If this is real, go let yourself in and wait for me to contact you. Get something to eat, watch porn, raid the minibar, I don’t care, but don’t cause a scene, don’t bring any guests with you, and for God sakes, don’t let anyone who might be looking for you discover where you are.”

Accepting the keycard, Tom says, “Thank you, sir.”

“Just go,” he orders.

With one last look back, Tom does.


End file.
